


Closer To Heaven

by SonGoharotto



Series: LiS Ficlets, One Shots, & AUs [2]
Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1960s, Chloe is a motorcycle daredevil, F/F, Ficlet, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, Max is a nurse, Minimal period slang, No Sex, One Shot, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27650336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonGoharotto/pseuds/SonGoharotto
Summary: Chloe botches a jump and winds up in the hospital, but a charming nurse promises to brighten up her convalescence.
Relationships: Maxine "Max" Caulfield/Chloe Price
Series: LiS Ficlets, One Shots, & AUs [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021759
Kudos: 15





	Closer To Heaven

Chloe lived her life seconds at a time. Those precious few when she was literally above it all. The tragedy, the abuse, the heartbreak. When there was only herself, her motorcycle — a Triumph Bonneville T120 she’d affectionately dubbed ‘Anne Bonny’ — and the infinite sky.

In those moments, it was easy to forget the expectations of others; of those that wanted her to succeed, of those that wanted her to fail, of those that just _wanted her_. The roar of the crowd faded away. They didn’t matter. Chloe was the master of her own fate. She’d made it _her way_ , had gotten out of that dead end town, had made her own name, even if it was something silly like ‘Lizzy Priceless, Daredevil Extraordinare’. She didn’t even mind when the papers called her ‘Lezzy Priceless’. Chloe was nothing if not a provocateur.

Her personal motto was: “Life is priceless, so live each day to the fullest, or else you ain’t getting your money’s worth.” Which is exactly what Chloe had done. She drank like a fish, smoked like a chimney, and partied like she was dying. She skipped eating for days a time when a project absorbed her attention, like striping a bike down to the frame and reengineering some part or other by hand. She took and lost lovers at rate which was considered scandalous, even by the standards of the so-called ‘Sexual Revolution’.

But all the blood, sweat, and tears were worth it when she was sailing through the air, Jolly Roger cape streaming behind her, the crowd a noiseless blur, feeling only the wind on her face, the thrum of Anne Bonny between her legs, and the lurch in her stomach as gravity let go, ever so slightly. It was these precious few seconds when Chloe felt closer to Heaven than anybody else in the world.

The cars stacked beneath her sailed by fast. Maybe too fast. Definitely too fast. Now Chloe had overshot the landing ramp. That was always a possibility, but it was arguably worse than falling short. The crowd’s cheers and jeers turned into gasps and screams. If Chloe’s luck didn’t hold out, she might get a bit closer to Heaven than she’d bargained for tonight…

_**O h f u c k** _

Chloe groaned. Chloe itched. Chloe swore.

This wasn’t the first time she’d been in traction, and it surely wouldn’t be the last, but it never got easier to put up with. The crash was ugly, maybe her ugliest to date. To be frank, she was fortunate to make it out of the arena with all her limbs attached. She’d limped away like a champ, good arm looped around a trusty crewman’s neck while she flashed the audience a thumbs up and bit back tears so hard that she bled. Or maybe that was her ruptured spleen leaking out. Suffice to say, Chloe was going to be in the hospital a while longer and the nurse couldn’t get back with _those damn drugs a moment too soon!_

When the door to her room finally swung open, Chloe nearly threw a bed pan in frustration, but her hand was stayed by the new vision of loveliness whom had walked in: short, freckled, brunette, and cute as a button. She had eyes as deep and blue as the sea, which lingered only a little at the sight of ‘Lizzy Priceless’s trademark leather jumpsuit hanging in the corner, before being drawn magnetically to the infamous daredevil herself.

Chloe quite forgot all about her pain.

“What happened to Nurse Ratched?”

The newcomer chuckled, a low and throaty sound which Chloe wouldn’t have expected from the waif. “Oh, you made her cry,” came the response, colored by a lilt of amusement. “And I shouldn’t gossip, but she’s awful, a total square.”

“Groovy, I’ll add that to my list of career accomplishments.” Chloe swept at her blond fringe, a futile effort. It was unruly at the best of times and far from charming after a week in bed, in this stinking Texas heat. “Who might you be, darlin’?”

“I’m Nurse Caulfield and I’ll be your primary caregiver for the time being.” She actually _curtsied!_ “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Ms. Priceless.”

“Please, it’s Price. Ms. Priceless is my mother,” Chloe joked. “My friends call me Chloe-Elizabeth, or if that’s too much to _wrap your tongue around_ , then just Chloe — but _you_ can call me anytime. So, got anything for me in that apron of yours, Caulfield?”

The nurse laughed again, freckled cheeks turning pink. She dipped a hand into the front pocket of her crisp white uniform and produced a small vial of morphine and a syringe.

“I’ve got something to stick in you, all right.” Then she added, so softly that it was almost a whisper: “And, um, you can call me Max.”

Now it was Chloe’s turn to flush. “I think we’re going to get along just fine, Max.”

Nurse Caulfield busied herself with measuring and administering the proper dosage into Chloe’s intravenous line, eyes diverting to roam over her patient’s barely clothed form and exposed tattoos. Through the window of her room, Chloe could see the other staff popping in and out of view like gophers, curious to see what carnage awaited this latest sacrifical lamb. No, wait, Chloe was mixing her metaphors.

She sighed in deep satisfaction as the drugs kicked in.

That whole train of thought was derailed by the sight of the brunette’s circle skirt swishing around her shapely, stocking-clad legs. The heels of polished shoes clacked on the tile floor as she went about the room, tidying up and generally being in no hurry to leave. The ensemble, while utilitarian, was nicely fitted, and Chloe wondered how much better it would look on the floor?

“Was there anything else I can do for you, Ms. P- (ahem) Chloe?”

It might have been said casually, but Caulfield’s breathless tone betrayed her own feelings on the subject. Emboldened, Chloe pulled at the neckline of her hospital gown and left it showing a bit more of her broad, athletic shoulders than was strictly necessary.

“Since you asked, I have some complaints. For starters, this sling is digging in somethin’ fierce, see here?”

Max approached the bed again and settled on the edge, skirt hiking north of one smooth knee. She cooed symapthetically, lithe fingers readjusting the strap of the sling which kept Chloe’s recently-dislocated arm and fractured wrist in position to heal. She unclasped the buckle, then rubbed lotion onto the chaffed skin around the patient’s neck and shoulders in slow, broad strokes. The lotion was cool, but Chloe’s skin burned where they touched.

“Better?” A bead of sweat rolled down Max’s neck, over her collarbone, and disappeared inside the deep V of her high, starched collar.

Chloe sucked in a breath and her bottom lip caught teeth on the exhale. “Already.”

The knuckles on Chloe’s good hand idly brushed Max’s knee. She didn’t jump.

“Well, I have to finish making my rounds,” Max admitted reluctantly.

“Wait! I mean, uh, before you go.” Chloe jutted a chin down the length of her body. “Could you fluff me?”

Max followed her gaze to the pillows propped under Chloe’s elevated leg. A pulley system countbalanced the weight of her injured leg, plus the hardware keeping her knee and shin pinned together, but it was hardly comfortable. Max obligingly arranged the pillows, gasping a little when Chloe’ gown fell away to show a naked hip and the little blue butterfly tattooed there.

The pads of Max’s fingers ghosted over the skin, raising goosebumps. Chloe’s wandering hand crept under the nurse’s skirt and along white nylon. The room seemed to get five degrees hotter.

Outside, something clattered noisily. Max froze. Chloe’s head whipped around to look out the window, into the hall, but if anybody had been peeping, she didn’t catch them. The tension broken, Nurse Caulfield stood and straightened out her uniform, though the mousy brown hair under her white bonnet was still a bit frazzled.

“I, um, I better,” Max stammered. Her voice was raspy and strangled, so she cleared her throat and tried again. “I better be on my way. Patients, I have, other patients. Lots to do! Sorry, I’m sorry.”

Chloe forced down the acidic burn of disappointment in her throat and called out, “Will you come by later?” before Max could get out the door. “Tonight?”

Max stopped, breathing hard. She didn’t turn all the way to face Chloe again, but what the daredevil could see of her was glowing scarlet.

“I could… What I mean is, um, how does a sponge bath sound?”

“Heavenly.”

**Author's Note:**

> Another random AU idea that doesn't extend beyond this one scene, but it's a nice change of pace to write these two as being immediately into each other, instead of awkwardly navigating the transition from a childhood friendship to something more.
> 
> Chloe's stage persona is an obvious analog to Evel Knievel, but I conceive her as being much more a gay icon, considering the time period. ;)


End file.
